


You've Left Me in the Dark

by I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own



Series: Evil Author Day 2018 [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Evil Author Day, Soulmate Vision AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 23:32:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13692147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own/pseuds/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own
Summary: “Do you think they made a mistake?” she asks, glancing at him from where his head is rested on her chest.“Hmm?” he murmurs, looking up at her.“Us. Do you think they made a mistake and we were supposed to be soulmates?” she questions, biting her lip. Thranduil heaves a sigh and sits up, turning to face her, she follows suit.“I don’t know. I don’t think it matters, do you?” he asks, picking at the grass.





	You've Left Me in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who are unaware, Evil Author Day is the day where Authors bring out their WIPS, and there is no guarantee these WIPS will ever be finished, that's what makes the day Evil. This is the first of my offerings. 
> 
> Names:  
> Gleweril = Sunlight/Radiance (Female)  
> Calithilon = Moonlight (Male)

_The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out._  
_You left me in the dark._  
_No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight,_  
_In the shadow of your heart._  
_~Florence + the Machine, Cosmic Love_

* * *

 

Thranduil isn’t concerned when the heat flashes start, his father has explained the process to him countless times, to both him and his sister. The heat flashes started three mornings ago, a few hours before breakfast, and lasted for ten minutes each morning, waking him up each time. Thranduil knows this means he has four more heat flashes before his first vision on the eighth day since the flashes started. He’s excited and nervous.

No one is truly sure why the visions occur to lead people to their soulmates only that they’ve been occurring since the elves first awoke on the shores of Cuiviénen. There are stories the visions are a gift from Lórien to the elves, but Thranduil has met humans, he knows they have their own visions, too, and he has heard stories of the dwarves having them also. There is nothing special about the visions, least not only for the elves.

He knows that his first vision is meant to occur on the same day and the time that his soulmate had been born on, and he likes the idea that his sweetheart was born in the early morning. Thranduil and his sister had been born late in the night, just after midnight, his father told him. He felt slightly guilty that his soulmate would be woken in the middle of the night for their vision, but there was nothing to be done about it.

* * *

Thranduil is drawn from sleep with a small jolt, he sits up and looks around his room, sighing heavily he lies back down and suddenly he’s not looking at his bedroom anymore, but seeing storm clouds swirling in his vision. Thranduil feels a lump forming in his throat, he knows what the storm clouds mean.

His soulmate is dead.

* * *

When Thranduil tells his father that his soulmate is dead, Oropher smiles at him sadly and sits him down to talk.

“It’s alright, Thranduil. Sometimes this happens. Your soulmate will be reborn, and when they are, you’ll see rainbow clouds, and when your soulmate is old enough, you’ll start seeing their life. You’ve got all the time the world can offer, Thranduil. I promise you will find your soulmate.”

* * *

They pass into the second age, happily set up in the Greenwood now, and still Thranduil sees storm clouds every year for ten minutes. His sister has begun her journey into the world in search of her soulmate, an elf she tells him, living far away, somewhere she has never been except for in the visions. Thranduil is happy for her, and he wishes her well, but he wishes his soulmate would be reborn already.

* * *

The year is 3110 of the Second Age, Thranduil has yet to have a vision that is not the storm clouds, he no longer cares, and his father has ceased asking about his visions.

“Come on, Calithilon.” A welcome voice calls from the doorway to his bedroom, and he looks up, smiling at the elleth stood before him. “You can’t sit around all day and mope about your vision.”

“I’m not, Gleweril, I was simply thinking.” Thranduil answers, moving away from his window and coming to stand beside her, taking in her riding tunic. “Are we going somewhere interesting today?” he asks.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out. Get changed.” Gleweril tells him, eyeing his robes, complete with train. “You look ridiculous.”

“I do not.” Thranduil pouts, looking down at his robes. “Just because you wish to look like you’ve never even been within three feet of a noble born, does not mean we all have to dress that way.”

“Oh, please. You just like looking like you were born with a golden spoon in your mouth.”

“It was silver, and the dwarves stole it.” Thranduil teases, Doriath enough in the past now to joke about, though it still makes him sad from time to time.

“Oh, shut up, and get changed.” Gleweril tells him, rolling her eyes. “I’ll be outside.” She says, turning and leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

Thranduil laughs and turns to his dresser to find his riding clothes.

* * *

Thranduil and Gleweril lie on a small hill under the stars, having spent the day riding through the forest. Thranduil’s hair shines in the moonlight, and Gleweril runs her fingers through it absentmindedly.

“Do you think they made a mistake?” she asks, glancing at him from where his head is rested on her chest.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, looking up at her.

“Us. Do you think they made a mistake and we were supposed to be soulmates?” she questions, biting her lip. Thranduil heaves a sigh and sits up, turning to face her, she follows suit.

“I don’t know. I don’t think it matters, do you?” he asks, picking at the grass.

“No.” she replies, smiling. “I don’t think it matters at all.”

“Good, because I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Thranduil says, smiling sheepishly.

“Me, too.” She admits, blushing.

“Do you want to get married?” he asks, she giggles.

“I’m so happy that was where you were going with that.” She answers, grinning widely. “Yes.” Thranduil laughs and runs his fingers through his hair, a big grin forming on his face, eyes sparkling.

“I’m so glad you said yes.” He says, unable to hide his relief. She giggles again and leans forward.

“Well, husband-to-be, do I get a kiss?” she asks, he chuckles and leans forward to kiss her.

They never want the moment to end.

* * *

The battle ended hours ago, all fighting ceasing, but he has paid no heed to it. None since he found her. Broken and lifeless on the battlefield, her sword discarded beside her, bent and useless. He’d fallen boneless to the ground beside her, his arms trembling as he’d pulled her into his arms, cradled her against his chest.

A coldness has settled upon his heart in the time he has held her, like the longer he cradles her against him, the more warmth her lifeless body steals from him. And then it happens.

One moment he is holding her, and the next he’s seeing rainclouds swirling before him. When the vision fades, he realizes his wife is no longer in his arms, and he himself is being cradled against a solid chest as he cries.

The sun has gone down on his world, and he doesn’t think it will ever shine again.

* * *

It is two thousand years later, Thranduil is in the middle of a meeting when suddenly his vision is filled with swirling rainbow clouds. He’s laughing when the vision fades. He’s laughing, and he’s alone in the council chamber except for Galion, who is sat beside him, watching him critically.

“Thranduil?” Galion asks carefully when Thranduil moves and turns to him, smiling.

“Rainbow clouds.” Thranduil tells him, eyes shining. “Rainbow clouds, Galion. They’ve always been storm clouds. But they’re rainbows now!”

“That’s wonderful, mellon nin.” Galion tell him, smiling and visibly relieved. “We were worried when you started laughing. But this is wonderful news.”

* * *

Ten years later, Thranduil is woken in the middle of the night to the strange sensation of viewing the world through someone else’s eyes. He panics, tries to call out, but finds he has no voice, and cannot move. Thranduil feels a sense of excitement and dread as he realizes he is having his first vision, and that whoever his soulmate is they are in a part of Middle-earth that is experiencing night-time, as Thranduil is, and also that his soulmate is not sleeping. But rather looking at something by candlelight, what exactly it is, Thranduil can’t quite make out. His soulmate’s vision not as detailed as his own.

Just as quickly as the vision started, it stops, and Thranduil is staring up at the ceiling of his own bedroom. He’s not quite sure how to feel, he knows something is wrong with his Soulmate, all he doesn’t know is what. He sighs heavily and rolls from his bed, grabbing his dressing gown and slipping into is as he left his chambers.

He walks quickly down the corridor towards Galion’s chambers, knocking hurriedly at the door. He hears Galion sighing and muttering as the other elf hurries to the door.

“The king had better be on fire, or bleeding out, or dying horribly in some other fashion for you to be harassing me at this hour!” Galion grumbles as he throws the door open. He pauses as his eyes land on Thranduil and he frowns. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not dying.” Thranduil says, sheepish, feeling idiotic for not waiting until the morning.

“Come in.” Galion tells him, stepping aside to let Thranduil pass. Thranduil breezes through the door and straight over to a pair of armchairs set by a dying fire. Galion closes the door after him and goes to tend the fire, before sinking down into the armchair opposite his lord. “So?”

“I had a vision.” Thranduil tells him, staring into the fire. “A proper vision. It’s only been ten years, Galion. It’s too soon.”

“No.” Galion answers, sighing heavily and folding his arms over his chest. “Your soulmate is mortal. I would guess, human.”

“Mortal?” Thranduil exclaims horrified. “Six thousand years I’ve waited. And they’re _mortal?“_

“I’m sorry.” Galion says as Thranduil starts laughing.

“Gleweril was right. They made a mistake. _She_ was my soulmate and she’s gone now.”

“Thranduil.” Galion cautions, reaching forward to place a comforting hand on Thranduil’s arm. Thranduil is slow to look at him. “Look, I don’t pretend to have all the answers, mellon nin. Your soulmate is not the only one whom you can love. They are simply your soul’s perfect mate. Just because you love someone, does not mean you’ll be happy spending the rest of your life with them, and just because someone is your soulmate, does not mean you will love them.”

“But-“

“Gwilwilethil was my soul’s mate, but we were incompatible as lovers. She left, and I stayed, and that was that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not my point, I’m not saddened. I’ve never again had a friend like Gwilwilethil. What I’m saying is that even if you find this person, there’s no guarantee you will pursue anything with them further than friendship, there’s no guarantee you’ll want to. So whether you pursue them now, or you leave them to die their mortal death, is up to you. Maybe, if you leave them, they’ll be reborn an elf. We cannot know.”

“So I just, pretend like none of this is happening?”

“If you wish. I cannot make your decisions for you, Thranduil.”

“Yes, I know.” Thranduil says with a sigh, looking down at his hands. “I’ve waited so long.”

“A little while longer shouldn’t hurt.”

“Shouldn’t hurt who?” Thranduil asks, smiling bitterly. “The first vision they have, they will know their soulmate is an elf. And there are only three elven kingdoms left in Middle-earth, Galion. And only one that dwells within a mountain.”

“If you choose not to find them, they will never find you, Thranduil. You are the _king,_ how will they know to ask for you?”

“True. I will leave them be.”

“If you are sure that is what you wish to do.”

“It is.”

“Then I will support you in this.”

“Thank you.”

“What are friends for? Now, please, I need my beauty sleep.”

“Oh? Who are you trying to look pretty for?” Thranduil teases as he rises from his armchair.

“That is none of your business.” Galion replies, sniffing. “I merely wish to be well rested, seeing as I’ve got a long day of following a melodramatic king around everywhere tomorrow.”

“I am not melodramatic.”

“Mhm.” Galion says, getting to his feet and escorting Thranduil to the door. “Not melodramatic.” He laughs, shaking his head. “You keep telling yourself that, my lord.”

“I’m not.”

“I dare you to ask anyone.” Galion tells him, shaking his head. “Tomorrow. At a reasonable hour.” Galion adds quickly, earning a playful slap on the shoulder from Thranduil. “Oh, sure, abuse your oldest friend.”

“I’m the king, I can do what I want.”

“How about you _want_ to return to bed?”

“Fine.” Thranduil says, giving a put-upon sigh. “Sleep well, Galion.” He tells Galion, before taking his leave.

“Goodnight, Thranduil. Sweet dreams.” Galion says, smiling and closing the door. “The things I do for my friends.” Thranduil hears him muttering and smiles softly, heading back to his chambers.

* * *

It has been five years since Thranduil had his first vision, and he’s quite certain by now his soulmate is a human male. Which would perhaps scare him if he were planning to pursue him, however, he has no plans of this nature, and is content to simply know his soulmate is alive and well.

And chasing girls, from the looks of his latest vision.

* * *

Another ten years after that, Thranduil has the privilege of seeing that his soulmate has found his own love. A beautiful, dark haired maiden around his soulmate’s own age, with eyes the colour of Rosewood. Thranduil is happy for them, and wishes them many years of happiness.

* * *

Two years later, Thranduil’s vision consists solely of a precious new-born baby. His soulmate does not take their eyes from the baby for a single moment, and Thranduil watches as the baby laughs, the silence making the moment sweeter.

When the vision ends, he knows he made the correct choice in leaving his soulmate to their own devices.

* * *

A year later, Thranduil watches the baby toddle a few steps towards him, his soulmate, before falling on its backside, bouncing slightly. The mother enters the frame laughing, in her arms is another little baby. Thranduil’s soulmate reaches out to pick up the toddler, cradling them in his arms.

The vision ends and Thranduil can’t help but feel elated for his soulmate.

* * *

Four years after that, Thranduil knows something is wrong the moment the vision starts. The two children, a boy and a girl, he’s watched growing up now sit before him, they’re crying. In his soulmate’s arms lies another baby, small and still. Thranduil thinks the baby is dead, when it wrinkles its little nose, and starts to cry silently. Not the child, then, Thranduil thinks.

The vision ends before he can learn what has befallen his soulmate’s family. And he’s started to think of it as his family now, too. Despite never having met them.

* * *

It is a year later that he learns what has gone wrong. The mother is dead. This vision starts at a mound site at the water’s edge. The children are playing at the corner of Thranduil’s vision, and the baby fusses in his soulmate’s arms. Thranduil watches as his soulmate lowers the baby to the ground, the little one crawls back into his soulmate’s lap, and leans forward to pat against the mound, more delicately than Thranduil would have thought possible. That’s a learned delicateness, he knows. Which means his soulmate comes to this mound often with the family.

The vision ends, and Thranduil has tears in his eyes. What were the chances? That he and his soulmate would decide not to pursue each other, and that each of them would fall in love with others, and raise families, only for their love to die. What were the chances?

* * *

It is another ten years after that, when Thranduil meets his soulmate. It is completely on accident, and to his great surprise, he doesn’t regret it.

* * *

He rides into the ruined city of Dale, regal and mighty upon his Elk, as he scans the courtyard, his eyes land upon the appointed leader of the ragtag band of humans, and his breath catches as the man is engulfed in a far too bright light. He is caught off guard for only a moment, evidently a few seconds less than his soulmate, who does not misunderstand his presence here, but Thranduil finds the need to lie to him anyway. A half-truth is still a lie.

His soulmate is called Bard, and has been ferrying wine and other trade to and from Thranduil’s own kingdom for years. Thranduil does not know how he feels about this, but it does not matter. They do not have much time to discuss the personal matters they wish to discuss, everything is taken up by the impending war. As war engulfs everything, always.

* * *

It is after the battle, and its aftermath, that Thranduil has the honour of meeting Bard’s children. The eldest, Bain, the middle child, Sigrid, and the youngest, Tilda. Thranduil feels like he’s known them all their life, and in a way, he has. But he does not tell them that. Instead, Bard sends them on their way, and retires to Thranduil’s tent with him, to discuss their personal matters.

“So, I was right.” Bard starts, the moment the flap closes behind them.

“Oh?” Thranduil asks, sitting down at a little table in the corner of the tent, Bard following.

“You were the elf-king, all this time.”

“How did you know?”

“I got to see into your life, Thranduil.” Bard tells him, as if it is obvious. “I saw the way the other elves acted around you, how you acted around them. I knew you were either a High Born or a king.”

“Oh. I told Galion you’d figure out who I was.”

“You didn’t try to search for me, did you?” Bard asks, Thranduil shakes his head slowly.

“I waited for you to be born for _six thousand years._ ” Thranduil tells him, looking away. “And when the rainclouds became rainbow clouds, I didn’t know how to feel. But you grew up too quickly, I knew, when I had my first vision when you were ten that something was wrong. I spoke with one of my greatest friends, and he told me it meant you were mortal. Six thousand years of waiting and I knew I’d have to lose you one day if I found you. So, I didn’t.”

“Six thousand years?” Bard exclaims, eyes wide. “I can’t even fathom that. Six thousand years, gods.” Bard shakes his head, disbelieving. “My father, he died when I was sixteen. I took over his bargemen duties, did you know that?” Bard asks, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Yes. I wasn’t in Mirkwood at the time, I believe Legolas took care of renegotiating our agreement with Lake Town.” Thranduil replies, confused at the sudden change in subject.

“Yes. He wasn’t convinced someone of my age could be trusted with the task. But I fought for it. Because by that point, I’d caught a glimpse of Erebor through your eyes. I didn’t know if you were visiting Mirkwood and were climbing the trees, or whether you lived there and were just climbing trees for the fun of it. I truly do not know. But I knew you at least would be in Mirkwood from time to time. And I wanted to find you.” Bard laughs and shakes his head. “I met quite a few elves those first few years, trying to find you.”

“And then you stopped.” Thranduil states, starting to understand Bard’s point now.

“Yes. Eventually I stopped, I met Ingrid and it no longer mattered whether I found my soulmate or not. It was obvious to me that you weren’t looking for me. I assumed that meant you’d already found your Ingrid, but I never saw them.”

“She died.” Thranduil admits, looking down at the table. “Many, _many_ years before you were born.”

“What was her name?” Bard asks, and Thranduil feels it is only right Bard know, since Thranduil knows the name of Bard’s wife now.

“Gleweril. Sunlight. She was the light of my life.” Thranduil answers, smiling softly. “We thought that the Valar had made a mistake. That Lórien had made a mistake. That we were supposed to be soulmates and he’d messed that up somehow. Because we were so in love, and neither of us were having visions of anything but rainclouds. And then she died. And as I held her in my arms, I had a vision. Stormclouds. It was like Lórien was mocking me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, but you’ve spent six thousand years waiting for me. And you’ve met me now.”

“Yes?”

“Do you not know?” Bard asks, frowning.

“What?”

“Once you meet your soulmate, they no longer have a rebirth cycle. You no longer see visions of their life, not even the rainclouds come back. They’re just gone.”

“I-I didn’t know that. Maybe it’s different for the elves. We know we will be reborn again before the ending of the world.”

“Maybe. But for humans, it just ends.”

“But how is that fair?” Thranduil asks, annoyed.

“Life isn’t fair, Thranduil. I would think you’d know that by now.” Thranduil sighs heavily and closes his eyes.

“I am aware.” He says, the two of them falling into silence.

“What happens now?” Bard asks, breaking the silence.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you going to disappear back into your forest and pretend like we never met? You wanted nothing to do with me. If that is still your wish, I will not push the issue.”

“Why not?”

“Why not, what?”

“Push the issue? If I am the only Soulmate you’ll ever have, why not push the issue?” Thranduil asks out of curiosity.

“Because I don’t care.” Bard replies, honestly. “If you wish to be involved with my life, such as it is, and the lives of my children, I’m not opposed to the idea. However, if you wish to return to your forest and pretend we never met, I’m not opposed to that, either. But I will not stand for you becoming _something_ to my children, only for you to abandon them when my mortality, and theirs, becomes too much for you to bear. You are not mortal, you do not understand. Death is something we accept. It is a natural part of our lives, and the only way we survive it is by having the support of each other. If you become something to my children, they will look to you when I cannot be there for them. If you cannot be there for them either, then I’d prefer you disappear back into your forest, and we never speak of this again.”

“What if I don’t know what I want?” Thranduil questions, almost hesitantly.

“Then until you’ve decided, our interactions will be those of two allied kings, nothing more.”

“Bard.”

* * *

 

_I took the stars from our eyes, and then I made a map,_  
_And knew that somehow I could find my way back._  
_Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too,_  
_So I stayed in the darkness with you._  
_~Florence + the Machine, Cosmic Love_


End file.
